September 20, 1810 (one year prior to canon Pride and Prejudice)

Alma, although the proper way to address her was Mrs. Younge, had already explained her wish for Georgiana to call her by her Christian name, for they were friends, had already explained to Georgiana that it was right and proper for her to receive and entertain George Wickham. He was an old family friend-almost like a brother, Alma had reasoned, citing the old, past time childhood memories that Georgiana had shared with her on more than one cold, damp, lonely evening.

It was that reasoning that led Georgiana and Mr. Wickham, now seated on a blanket on the ground, out in the warm sun. Alma had left them less than half an hour ago, and now, the would be lovers had all the time in the world.

It was here that her brother, Fitzwilliam, came upon them. Georgiana had hardly known what was happening. She and George had made up a game, where one would think of a particular memory, and the other would ask pointed questions as to what the memory was about. It had to be a memory that both shared. It was Georgiana's turn. She had thought back to the first time she could properly remember George-which was long after her mother had passed beyond this world, at her birth.

Fitzwilliam had not yet arrived from his boarding school in London, and her papa, from what she could remember of that time, had already cloistered himself in his study, burying himself in matters of the estate. He was, to her, a tall figure dressed in mourning black.

Georgiana had only been a little girl then, and frequently raised her nursemaid's ire by escaping her, often going into her mother's heavily shrouded room. The first few times, she thought it empty and cold. But she had kept going, and soon discovered it a different world, in the right light. In the right light, it was a paradise. It reminded her of heaven, beaming in bright light and white.

This was where a young George Wickham had found her-laying her small head upon the same pillow that her mother had left this world on. He had laid a rough, but gentle, big hand on her shoulder, startling her, for she had trained herself to hear the angry, rising, exasperated tones of her beloved nursemaid. Georgiana turned, only to see what she thought, could only be an angel.

It was George, his smile easy and affable, his light hair shining, though it was as black as a raven's feather. He was light, he was blinding. He was her mother, come back to her. He was George Wickham. He helped her down from the huge bed, without one hint of reproach, and took her by the hand outside the room. He offered her a sweet from his pocket, one that he had gotten from the cook in Pemberley's kitchens. Georgiana remembered biting into the sweet, feeling its flavor wash over her mouth. It was a vivid sensation, one that would never leave her, nor the warmth of George's hand enveloping her small one.

Georgiana had begun the game by giving hints as to her memory, answering George's questions when Fitzwilliam came. She had not heard his approach, and there had been no Alma, nor her lady's maid to tell her of her brother's approach, for her to be able to properly receive him, as her brother, his sister. All she was aware of was George suddenly stopping off, in mid question; mid jest, making a rather hurried apology and promise of a swift return, and he was gone.

Georgiana was about to rise and follow after his rapidly retreating back, as she knew Alma would encourage her to not allow her almost lover leave without a proper goodbye to either of them, when a looming shadow fell over her seated form. She turned.

"Fitzwilliam!" she exclaimed happily. "I did not expect you for another fortnight. What a happy surprise!".

Fitzwilliam Darcy's countenance was grim, anger rolling off of him in waves. Georgiana noticed that he was stiff, almost unwelcoming as she finished her greeting with a warm hug. "What is the matter, Fitz?" she asked worriedly, as she saw his gaze turn, and remain fixed in the direction that George Wickham has so neatly escaped to.

His gaze turned to her, softening, while desperately searching her face and figure. "Did he hurt you, Georgiana?" he asked.

Georgiana drew back from her brother, her eyebrows furrowed in shock. "What is your meaning, Fitz? George would not-". "George?" he interrupted her sharply.

Georgiana felt a blush color her face. Although George and Alma had insisted on the informality of her addressing them by their given names, George and Alma, respectively, and, in return, she felt the obligation to give her permission to call her by her given name, under her elder brother's piercing gaze, she felt like a young child, not yet out of the nursery, nor from under the sharp eye of her nursemaid..

"F-forgive me brother, it was a mere slip-". Fitzwilliam cut her off. "We must take this indoors, Georgiana.". He cast a look around.

"Where is your companion, Mrs. Younge?". Without waiting for her stammered reply, he led her wordlessly back to the lodgings she shared with her companion. They were upon Mrs. Younge before she knew it, Georgiana flying to her, already ahead of her brother.

"Mrs. Younge-!". that was all she managed to get out before her brother took over.

"Mrs. Younge," he said, his voice almost booming, "I would like an explanation as to how I have arrived here, in the lodgings that I have paid for yourself and my sister to stay in, and come to find an reprehensible rake and scoundrel, such as George Wickham, not only in my sister's company, but unchaperoned at that!".

Alma seemed to shrink into herself with every word. Georgiana's strength seemed to rise with each and every word, and thus, she could not be silent. She would defend her caretaker, her friend; her brother, her lover. Her soon to be husband. He was to be Fitzwilliam's brother, not just by the bonds of love and affection, but by law. She knew then, that he sensed something was wrong. Improper. In a way, it was.

Georgiana did not necessarily want an elopement. She wanted her brother and her family see her marry the love of her life in the very rectory that they would serve their God, and their family in. Not a long and uncomfortable carriage ride to Scotland, with only Alma, and perhaps one of George's numerous friends to serve as witness. No, she would tell Fitzwilliam, and he would understand that she was not a child any longer, she was a woman grown, and was prepared, and ready for her marriage.

So she told him, knowing it would have a twofold purpose-knowledge of why George was with her, unchaperoned, and the happiness that George had brought to her in such a short time. To Georgiana's shock and dismay, as she told the tale, beginning to end, her brother's visage only darkened, further and further, the more she said. He then, to her surprise, snapped at Alma to stay seated, rang the bell for her maid, and ordered Georgiana to her room until he sent for her.

A numb Georgiana went to do as she was bid from her normally taciturn, yet loving elder brother, when he suddenly pulled her into a tight hug. She felt herself fold into his embrace, as a babe to its mother's breast. His chest was warm, his heart beating rapidly in her ear. Fitzwilliam drew a ragged breath, and asked her, in a gentler tone, to go to her room until sent for. She acquiesced with a small smile, no longer worried. Fitzwilliam had had a bad shock to her news. It was not surprising.

George Wickham was the son of their father's old steward. He had nothing really in the way of money-they were to take residence at the living that their father had promised George, and would use her dowry as well. They would not have as much as though Georgina had married a titled gentleman, like her cousin, the Viscount of _, but they would be comfortable together. They would have each other, and that was what mattered. What she wanted. And George would tell Fitz, and it would be understood.

Georgiana sat at her vanity, absentmindedly rearranging the small collection of combs and perfumes laid out. A small smile reached her lips, as she reached for the comb she thought would best suit her hair on her wedding day. Yes, Fitzwilliam would understand that she was in love and wanted to marry. He would understand and give permission. Her mind drifted, to much more pleasant thoughts, as she awaited her brother and her love.

When Georgiana was first taken away from Pemberley, from her own dear home and brother, she had been inconsolable. Pemberley was where she belonged. There was nothing that she could not undertake nor learn in the matters of her education, such as history, sums, languages, literature, and of course, music, that she could not learn from the comforts of her own home. Her governess, Miss Worth, had been the person to awaken the love of the pianoforte within her. Why, oh why, was her dear brother so determined to send her away? And to London, at that! Later, when he relayed his plans to send her to Ramsgate, with a new companion, a Mrs. Younge, her thoughts were much the same: Why? A smile now touched her lips, as she considered the outcome of such a trip.

Some weeks prior…..

"Georgiana, come my dear, you must awake!"

Georgiana's eyes drifted open, blearily focusing on the face of her new companion, Mrs. Younge. All at once, she was aware that the carriage had stopped, and suddenly she was aware that she was much too cool. She put her arms about herself, shivering.

"Are we at the cottage, Mrs. Younge?" she asked hopefully, wanting to get out of the carriage, out of the cold.

Mrs. Younge smiled, "Yes, my dear, we have arrived at the cottage."

Georgiana returned her smile uneasily. She was not yet at ease with Mrs. Younge, as she had only known her a few weeks past since her brother had hired her to be her companion while on holiday. Even then, that time was spent mainly with her brother and cousin.

He and Cousin Richard had take a few weeks from their daily duties to spend time with her at their London townhouse. So while Mrs. Younge had accompanied them on outings, they had not much time to interact with each other. And now they were alone, and would be for two months.

"My dear, are you cold? You are a shivering little mouse!" Mrs. Younge laughed gaily at her little joke. Georgiana let out another smile, and shivered again, for emphasis. She simply wanted to be out of such a confined space with Mrs. Younge, and into a place with a hot meal and bath.

Mrs. Younge, sensing Georgiana's distress, helped her out of the carriage, and together they walked to the cottage. A mere hour later, Georgiana had taken a nice, hot bath, changed into a fresh outfit, and was now sitting at a small table, eating a simple and delicious meal of beef stew. Afterwards, Georgiana was led to her room by her companion, where she wished her a peaceful night.

Once in bed, Georgiana thought that she might lay awake for half the night, due to her nap in the carriage, but to her surprise she found herself drifting away-not fully aware that she was even asleep, until suddenly her eyes open, and there was a shadow looming above her; everywhere else was slowly glowing with light. She jumped up in shock, until the shadow spoke.

"My dear Georgiana, I am so sorry. Did I scare you, dear?"

It was Mrs. Younge. Oh dear merciful God, Georgiana thought to herself, and then answered timidly "A little bit, Mrs. Younge. I am sorry. I am not yet used to having-.".

Mrs. Younge waved away her concerns with an airy hand. "It is no matter, dear. Now, come come. I know that it is a bit early, but I wish to take a walk with you around the beach. Simply to stretch our legs before breakfast, after that long carriage ride. Although I suppose you are used to the length of the trip." Mrs. Younge left the room before Georgiana could say anything else, and was quickly followed in by her maid, Letty.

Georgiana was glad to see Letty, if only for someone who was close to her in age, and not quite as familiar with her, as Mrs. Younge was. Her brother had wanted to send for a maid from Pemberley, as the school she attended in London hired their own maids for the ladies attending, but in the end, it was determined by Mrs. Younge and her brother, that Mrs. Younge would look for a maid that worked near the cottage.

As she found last night, Letty was perfectly punctual and cordial to her new mistress, but not familiar nor warm. It was just as well. Georgiana was not particularly familiar with any of the Pemberly maids. She had been under the charge of her nursemaid up until the time her brother sent her off to school in London, and from then on, was served by strangers.

With Letty's help, Georgiana was quickly dressed and out the door of her room. Downstairs, Mrs. Younge awaited her in a chair near the door. Smiles were exchanged, a walk was taken. Tea was poured. Biscuits were eaten. Mrs. Younge questioned. Touched Georgiana's arm. Smiled. Smiled endlessly, at every expression, every deed that Georgiana wore or did. Nothing seemed to matter; nothing brought them close. They were two strangers, living together in a pantomime of a respectable family unit. Georgiana couldn't, not much longer-not for the entire eight weeks, as her brother wished. Little had she known, that feeling of discomfort would soon change.

Georgiana let out a small sigh as Letty dressed her before her morning walk with Mrs. Younge. "Something the matter, Miss?" Letty asked. Georgiana minutely shook her head. "It is nothing Letty. I believe that I am simply not in the mood for a-." Her words were cut off by a knock to the door of her room. "Just a minute, ma'am." she heard Letty say. Georgiana compressed her lips into a small scowl as Letty hurriedly finished dressing her, and let Mrs. Younge in.

Mrs. Younge gave her another one of her smiles. "I'm so sorry dear. You and I will not be able to take our walk today. I am afraid something came up with my late husband's business affairs. I must meet with my solicitor this morning. I shall be back in a few hours. Perhaps Letty can accompany you on your walk?" she asked, with a glance toward Letty. Letty dipped her head in response. "I'll have to grab my shawl from my room, and then I shall be ready Miss."

Georgiana paid no heed to the change in plan. Letty was much more tolerable company than Mrs. Younge, even if she did not know her well. Most of their days together passed in near silence, punctuated by the occasional question and answer-generally to do about her toilette. At least she now had a quiet walk to look forward to. Mrs. Younge left, Letty retrieved her shawl from her room, and their walk began. It was a normal walk, filled with the beautiful but familiar scenery. Perhaps it was just her ill humor at being in Ramsgate, so far from Pemberley. From her brother.

The walk was normal. But then it was not.

Georgiana and Letty had just stopped to take in the majestic, crushing waves upon the beach, when Letty noticed that a man was walking towards them. As he drew nearer, she alerted Georgiana, as it seemed that he would not alter his course to avoid them. When Letty alerted her, she thought it rude. What sort of a gentleman would be so rude and improper to two young women, of whom he did not have any prior acquaintance with? Georgiana stepped aside, determined to ignore this rude, rude man, when she heard her name. But not from Letty. From the man. How could-.

Georgiana whirled around in shock, but instead let out a girlish shriek that surprised even herself. It was George! "George!" Georgiana was in a state of disbelief. She had not seen George since she was twelve years old, in the few months leading to her father's death. Afterwards, he seemed to have disappeared. She had been very sad, as George was her best friend. Her only friend. She had not been as close to her brother then, as she was now. Then, she had only George and her nursemaid.

"How is it that you have came upon me, Geo-I apologize, Mr. Wickham?" she asked formally, her cheeks tinging as she realized that she had not been entirely proper, even within the sanctity of her own mind with Mr. Wickham. Mr. Wickham was just as happy to see her, his easy smile lightening Georgiana's spirits. "It is no bother, Miss Darcy. We are old friends, you and I."

"How is it that you have come, Mr. Wickham? Oh, how I have missed you! Did my brother tell you where I was, and send you? I confess that I have been rather morose in the few letters home that I have sent him."

Mr. Wickham answered those questions with an easy smile, that had belied the harsh truth of his words. "No, Miss Darcy. Unfortunately your brother and I are not at the best of terms at the moment. Come, let us walk, and speak in private." Georgiana turned to her maid, slightly uneasy. It was not entirely proper for her to walk with a man who was not a relative, unchaperoned at that! In her haste to be rid of Mrs. Younge for even a few hours, she had quite forgotten that even with her maid, it was still improper. She knew her brother would not want her to be alone with a man, unchaperoned.

But this was not simply a man. This was Mr. Wickham! Her brother's brother. Her brother. Although people outside her family might not understand the relationship, she was quite sure her brother would. And with that-she invited Mr. Wickham to their cottage for breakfast and tea. A chance to speak privately. Perhaps she would be able to give Mr. Wickham insight into the disagreement between himself and Fitz, thereby mending the breach.

Georgiana and Mr. Wickham had settled in at the cottage, when Georgiana heard Mrs. Younge's arrival into the breakfast room. Mrs. Younge was shocked; it was understandable to Georgiana.

"My dear," Mrs. Younge started nervously, "who is this young man, and why is he inside our home? You must know that it is not seemly-." Georgiana rushed to assure her.

"Mrs. Younge, this is Mr. George Wickham. He is an old family friend of the Darcy's. His father, old Mr. Wickham was the steward at Pemberley. My father was his own godfather. He and Fitzwilliam grew up together. He is like my brother." Georgiana bit her lip. "I am aware that it is not entirely-."

Mrs. Younge cut Georgiana off, a move that did not quite seem so unseemly now.

"It is no matter dear, I quite understand, and so would Mr. Darcy! If this, Mr. Wickham, is as you say, then I see no impropriety whatsoever. But I am curious, my dear. How did Mr. Wickham find you?"

Georgiana then launched into an explanation of their surprise meeting, with Mrs. Younge remarking on how fortunate it was, and how happy Georgiana must be. And she was. Mr. Wickham was exactly what she needed. If she could not have her brother nearby, she must take his alternative. Someone who reminded her of her home, of the good times. Of Pemberley.

Of course, Georgiana was not aware of the feelings that would develop between herself and George. The love he had for her, the love she had for him. They would be married soon, she could feel it. Her brother wanted nothing else in this world, but for her to be happy. Well, this would make her happy.

It was that delightful thought that she dwelt upon, until a scant hour, when she could not take the waiting any longer. She went to her brother's defacto study, and opened the door to see the two men she loved; Fitz and George.